Chapter 3
"You've got more nerve than a four star General with a private nurse!" Martha Anderson shouted, sitting on the edge of an overstuffed QM lounge chair and puffing violently on a cigarette, "Over a month since you've called me! Over a month since I've seen you! I don't know whether you're dead or alive! After all, Joe-we'd been hitting it nearly steady for a whole year in this holed up city. What gives?"
In spite of a gauzy peignoir that revealed two mobile pink tips straining against its transparency, and a peek-a-boo look at the translucent blue briefs, Lieutenant Martha Anderson was in no mood for physical chuminess. Joe had roused her from bed in a plea for help, only to be subjected to a well deserved diatribe from the woman scorned. He paced the floor, kept looking thirstily toward the little kitchen where the girls kept their sedating liquor, then paced the rug again.
"I'm a heel, baby," Joe admitted, running his fingers through the brown crinkle on his head and trying to fight off the new anxiety tension over Dorfstadt's murder, "I treated you like ... oh, hell, worse than anything. But I'm in a hot jam now, baby. A great big jam! And I've got nobody else to turn to!"
"You're in a jam ... and I'm supposed to bail you outr Martha resumed her rage, jumping up and swirling the peignoir around as she stomped her foot, "You go get yourself in some pickle ... maybe you wouldn't be in if we'd still been going together! That's a helluva note! Look, Joe ... we weren't exactly engaged ... and you sure as hell never told me you were really in love with me. But what's a girl supposed to do? We're a steady thing for over a year ... and I loved you! How could I help it in this crazy town where all the Americans go ape over the little Fraeuleins ... and an American gal is blessed lucky to nab a guy?"
"I ... I said I'm sorry," Joe began to falter, amazed even more now that Martha was close to him, how much she resembled the girl at the pension -same flaming hair, large bust that projected so youthfully, the long legs tapering from full thighs to the small ankles.
"No favors, Joe," Martha tried to be firm and resolute as she stood almost against him, arms folded sternly, " ... unless ... unless you tell me what happened ... where you've been.
"Okay, baby ... sit down," he sighed resignedly, knowing he'd have to pitch it pretty close to the truth, "I was ... well, sure, we went together, baby. But it wasn't real love ... not the home and kids and forever kind of love. It wouldn't have worked for us ... not both ways. And without a two way love it's no good. But I met this gal a few weeks ago, and...."
It was a painful job telling the jilted girl who still loved him all about Erika. In fact the explanation itself didn't seem logical or reasonable when he repeated it in chronological order. It was something only he could understand.
Martha accented his remorse with an almost instant change from the fiery redhead to a sincerely hurt young woman. With each new detail, the wrath subsided more. And when he was through, the 22 year old nurse lay heaped in the chair, fighting back the tears no longer.
"God ... what a fool I was! What a stupid little fool!" she sobbed out self criticisms, sopping up the tears with a procession of tissues Joe passed to her, "At least ... at least you were honest about it ... you never said you loved me ... or promised to marry me...."
"It's all my fault, baby," Joe shouldered it anyway, kneeling to the floor and feeling an incongruous warmth at her nearness, "I can't explain it ... I can't rationalize it. It just happened ... for both of us. We met and we knew."
"I don't care what they do to her!" Martha straightened up suddenly, sniffing loudly and tossing the Kleenex away, "I'm not going to get involved with this, Joe. You've told me ... and it's my duty to tell the authorities. You can't make a traitor out of me too. I'm going to telephone Security right now. I'm not a fool...."
"Wait, baby," Joe only coaxed, restraining himself from grabbing the phone away, "I'm not a traitor yet ... not by a long shot. And I'm not a murderer either. I didn't kill that guy at the pension. But I'll need your help ... just give me a hand on two little things ... and I'll try to clear up this mess. I can do it too, baby. Larry and I....
"Nol" she stated flatly, pushing Joe away.
"Martha! Martha! Don't write me off like this. For God's sake ... help me!" Joe pleaded, grasping both her hands now and pulling her close, feeling the sobbing warmth of her upset body against him, "I'm no traitor! But I can't let them kill her! Not without trying...."
A firm knock at the front door interrupted!
They both turned with a start. Joe let go Martha's hands and instinctively stretched himself out against the wall where the door would cover him, his heart bearing fast.
"Who ... who is it?" Martha stuttered.
"MP, Lieutenant Anderson, ma'am," a muffled voice came through the door, "Jus' wanna ask you a couple a questions."
Martha looked at Joe with an unspoken question. He responded with a worried look, but then nodded his head. The decision would have to be hers.
"I'm ... not dressed," Martha explained, cracking the door just a bit, "Could you come by tomorrow?"
"Sorry, ma'am," the deep voice outside droned, "I'm Sergeant Rutherford from Crim'nal Investigation. Jus' doin a quick check-up on all Enlisted Men who come in after two this mornin'. Le's see now ... Sergeant Joseph Guthrie was with you tonight ... right?"
The pause seemed like an eternity to Joe. Standing where she was, Martha had only to glance to her right to see the plea for mercy that strained his face. There was no demand to his look, just a humble and contrite begging for help, for a stretch of precious time.
"Yes, that's right," Martha made her decision, managing full credulity to her lie, "He didn't leave here until two. Is that all you want?"
"You sure it was two?"
"Well, I couldn't be sure it was precisely two...."
"Maybe one ... or one fifteen...."
"No, not that early. Two o'clock ... five minutes either way," she stuck with it, "I ... I remember telling him it was late and I had to be up for the seven o'clock shift."
"You have a fight?"
"A fight?" she questioned curiously, "Why no. We...."
Joe kept nodding his head up and down.
"Well...." Martha managed a silly little laugh, looking back at the MP, " ... it was nothing. Just a....
"That's all right, Lieutenant, ma'am," the MP drawled his apologies, "Please pardon me for bothering you. I didn' mean to ask no real pers'nal questions. Jus' a routine check. Sergeant Guthrie seems to be in fine shape ... story checks out real good. 'Night, ma'am."
"Whew!" Joe exclaimed, them grabbed Martha's full blown body and kissed her on the cheek in gratitude, "Now, you will help me? You will get one of those guys at the pharmacy to see what's in the capsule?"
"I must be nuts," Martha was sobbing again, but this time she cradled her head in Joe's chest, "I'D do it, Joe. I ... I guess I still love you. But please ... don't give those damn Reds what they want ... don't!"
"I'll work it out, baby," he was more at ease now and stepped away briefly to get a bottle of Cognac from the kitchenette cabinet, "I can stall 'em now. And Larry and I are working on some other angles too."
"What ... what secrets do they want? Or can't you tell me?" she asked, her hand still trembling as Joe handed her a drink."
"I don't know exactly," Joe told her, feeling even better after he downed the Cognac, "But the whole top secret transmission-everything from Washington, Bonn, Paris, Heidelberg-it all comes through the Decoding Room on my shift. It would be impossible to get away with anything though. The Security Officer hand-carries each message from the teletype, walks it through Decoding, and delivers it personally. I couldn't get out of that place with a message even if it was only a new Army recipe for mashed potatoes."
Joe sat down next to Martha on the couch. He wrung his hands, wanted another drink, but had to be sober and alert for the noon hour meeting. Martha drained her glass, then edged closer.
"I did mean it, Joe ... what I said in Paris last year," she dropped her voice to an intimate whisper, "I'd do anything for you ... anything."
Joe gulped hard. He didn't know how to take this. She wasn't exactly throwing herself at him like the other redhead, but the old infusion of bio-chemicals began to smolder. And this time Joe knew the formula, knew the explosiveness of the mixture which was" bubbling up into the turgid pitch of defenseless desire. Another minute ... two or three, and it would be just like old times. One of them had to stop it.
"I'll see you tomorrow, baby," he said it quickly, feigning a yawn as he got up.
"Today, you mean," she corrected him quietly, disappointed, but impressed by his desire not to make her hurt worse, "I'm off at three-thirty. I'll have the Corporal at the pharmacy check it out first thing today."
"Goodnight, baby," Joe cut it off, pecking her lightly on the cheek, "If I never loved you, Martha ... at least it was the closest thing to the real thing that ever happened."
"Thanks, Joe," her voice was resiliently soft, and she moved against him for one brief moment, then drew back, "I still love you, Joe. Goodnight ... darling."